Friends and Lovers: Working Title
by Nenayna
Summary: When Col. John Sheppard discovers that a long-time friend has been threatened on Atlantis, he surprisingly finds his feelings changing from friendship to something more. First fanfiction, reviews appreciated. John S./OC. Rated M for coarse language.


Chapter One

Colonel John Sheppard watched the gate as Chuck initiated the activation process, his hands resting comfortably on the P90 strapped to his tack vest. He smiled at the woman standing next to him. She was dressed identical attire, right down to the P90, but where Sheppard appeared calm, Hannah Mitchell appeared restless, nervous even. Sheppard frowned, wondering what was causing the normally cool-under-pressure hazmat specialist to be nervous.

"Everything okay, Mitchell?"

"Yes," Hannah responded quietly.

Sheppard frowned. Hannah was not normally short of words, or quiet when she spoke them. She was usually a gregarious bundle of energy that Sheppard often wished he could tap into.

"Really?" Sheppard pressed.

Irritation flared briefly within Hannah, only to be replaced by weary resignation. Of course Sheppard would know that something was wrong. He was nothing if not observant. Plus, he truly cared for those that served with him. It was one of things that Hannah admired most about her friend. They had worked together on missions many times in the past, and although she was a civilian under Dr. Keller's direct command, rather than his, there was no doubt that he considered all Atlantis personnel his responsibility.

"Yes, really."

"Gate's ready, Colonel," Chuck said from his position at the command centre. Hannah sighed in relief at the momentary reprieve that Chuck's interruption provided. Although she had no doubt that it would only be a momentary reprieve. Sheppard, as she had learned since they arrived in the Pegasus galaxy, was extremely stubborn.

"Thanks, Chuck." Sheppard turned to Hannah, "We'll talk about this later. We've got a long trek to the village."

"Fine," Hannah responded, resigned but relieved to finally be getting off the station. She had to get off the station before Captain Lennox realized that she was gone. She bent down to heft her medical bag onto her back and instantly regretted the hasty action as the movement pulled against her cracked ribs. How could she have forgotten? She'd spent the better part of three days hiding her injuries from her colleagues, stating that her stiff movements, pallor and barely stifled gasps of pain, were caused by nothing more than an over-exuberant training session with Teyla. Luckily, Teyla had been on the mainland for the past few days and so was not able to contradict her claims. She felt Sheppard's eyes on her, and she forced herself to meet his gaze with a smile. His gaze was sharp, no doubt assessing her suitability for their mission. Panic filled her and she tamped it down. She _had_ to get off the station for a while, away from Captain Lennox's threatening presence. The brutality of his attack had left her terrified, and his not so subtle warnings since the initial attack only reinforced her fear.

"Hannah?"

"I'm fine. I'm just experiencing the after effects of an intense training session with Teyla before she left for the mainland."

Sheppard relaxed, a grin softening his expression. "Yes, I've been the recipient of many of those sessions myself." He paused, still puzzled at the tension that seemed to roll of Hannah like a wave. He could see that she was forcing herself to relax. He decided to let it go—for now. Their mission was to administer the latest batch of vaccines to the children. Hardly a dangerous mission, but with their luck off-world it never hurt to be careful. "Then, let's go."

Hannah's stomach churned at the lie, but her heart leaped with relief at the fact that they were finally leaving, and she eagerly stepped through the glowing blue pool after him.

Once through the gate, Hannah readjusted her heavy pack, careful this time to keep her expression neutral, in order to not draw attention to her injuries. She had taped them up herself, and was sure that at least three ribs were cracked, if not broken, but not wanting to go to the infirmary and report the attack meant that she wasn't able to get a scan to be sure. She knew she could be risking a punctured lung if some of her ribs were truly broken, but she didn't have a choice. She needed a chance to talk with Colonel Sheppard without Captain Lennox's oppressive presence. Despite the pain from her ribs, she felt slightly euphoric, as if she had just finished one of her extended runs.

Freedom, however brief, was most welcome.

The trek from the gate to the village was approximately five kilometers, and the trail wound through a dense forest that reminded her of the forests near her home in northern British Columbia. She watched Sheppard walk beside her, his long-limbed stride relaxed. Although he looked relaxed, Hannah had enough experience watching him in action to know that when it came to Colonel John Sheppard, relaxed did not mean unaware.

After about ten minutes of amicable discussion. Sheppard turned their attention their current mission. "Given injections to screaming, sobbing children before, Dr. Mitchell?"

Hannah grinned, her first real smile in days. "Yes, although, I admit the last time I did so I was a first year resident." She laughed at the panicked look that Sheppard gave her. "Relax, it's like riding a bike. Besides, it won't be that bad, I promise. I've come prepared."

Sheppard looked at her questioningly. "Prepared?"

"I raided Jen's candy jar and sticker collection while picking up the supplies in the infirmary. We are well armed with lollipops and stickers, both designed to soothe and distract even the most terrified child."

"Well done," Sheppard grinned. "That will make our life easier."

"Our life, Sheppard?" Hannah said, her relief at being off-world making her bolder than usual. "Last time I checked, _I_ was the one with the medical training. You're just on the mission to be eye candy."

"Eye candy?"

"Yup, eye candy," Hannah nodded. "The mothers will be so distracted by your stunning good looks, wit and charm that they'll forget that I am about to stick their child with a very sharp pointed object."

"Well," Sheppard said "it's good to be needed." He suddenly pulled her to a stop and speared her with a look so intense that she bit her lip, wondering if she had taken their banter too far, despite their friendship.

"Do you find me stunning, witty and charming, Hannah?" Sheppard's intense look faded to a teasing grin as he saw her face flush with embarrassment.

"Yes. I mean, no. I..." Hannah was so surprised that she stumbled, involuntarily bringing a hand to her right side, trying to further splint her injured ribs. Regaining her footing, she tried to pretend that she was only brushing some dirt of her tack vest. She ignored the sweat that broke out on her brow, and hoped that Sheppard didn't notice the sudden sheen of moisture.

Sheppard frowned at the movement, recognizing it for what it was. "Doc cleared you for duty, right Hannah?"

Hannah swallowed. She was not good at deception at the best of times and this situation was stretching her meager resources. "She approved my taking her place on this mission."

"That's not exactly what I asked." The stern look was back, only this time it was not followed by a teasing grin. "Doc know you injured your ribs?"

"She left for the medical emergency in New Athos as soon as I agreed to go in her place on this mission. I went over the details with Marie. I didn't see Jen in person, so she wouldn't have been aware of the injury."

"I see. Then which doctor cleared you for duty?" Sheppard pressed.

"I…," Hannah paused, glanced down at her feet and then lifted her hazel gaze to stare directly into the Colonel's steely blues. "My injuries weren't serious. I didn't need to go to the infirmary. I have medical training. I took care of it myself."

"I see," Sheppard snapped. "Any injuries besides the ribs that I should know about? Injuries that will affect your ability to do your job?"

_Several, but not ones that will affect the ability to do my job_. Hannah wanted to respond, but instead replied: "No." She planned to tell Sheppard everything, but some injuries were too personal, even between friends. She wasn't ready. She wanted to wait until after they completed their mission. She needed the time to gather the courage to explain the situation, and explain why she hadn't reported the attack sooner.

Sheppard glared at her silently. She could tell that he knew she was lying. That was the problem with keeping secrets from your friends, Hannah thought. They always knew when you weren't telling them everything they should know.

"These injuries weren't the result of a sparring session with Teyla, were they? She never would have let you go without proper medical attention."

"No," she said reluctantly. "I didn't hurt my ribs sparring with Teyla."

"And?"

"And what?"

Sheppard scowled. "Don't be obtuse. You know what I'm asking."

"John," she paused, surprising Sheppard with the use of his first name. Although friends, she normally referred to him as 'Sheppard' or Colonel, especially when they were on missions together. Teyla, Ronon and Rodney did the same. It fit a nice orderly pattern, and provided some Sheppard with emotional protection in crisis situations. His team seemed to sense his need of this distance during missions; however, whereas Teyla, Ronon and Rodney used his first name regularly during their down time, Hannah _never_ called him 'John'. The use of his first name worried him.

"John, I promise, I'll explain—later. None of my injuries, save possibly my ribs, will have any impact, negative or otherwise on this mission. Besides, I've taped my ribs, there is nothing more to do but let them heal."

Sheppard was not so easily mollified. "You shouldn't have come on this mission injured. It's stupid and against regulations."

Hannah snorted. "You're a fine one to talk about breaking regulations, Sheppard."

He ignored the reference. "We're heading back to the gate right now, unless you tell me what the hell's going on, and if I still don't like what's going on _after _I hear your explanation, we're still going back."

"This isn't a dangerous mission, Sheppard. We're just going to give some kids a much needed vaccine. We're already here, let's just get it done. I'll explain as soon as we're finished."

"No. You can barely bend over without passing out." Hannah recoiled slightly at the vehemence in Sheppard's tone. He was angry, angrier than she had seen him in a long time. "You're not fit for this mission, a fact which you are _painfully_ aware of. This breech of regulations will be noted in your file and reported to your immediate supervisor."

"Sheppard…" Hannah began, shocked at both his threat and his formality.

"Explain now." Sheppard interrupted. "That's an order," his words spat out through gritted teeth.

Hannah sagged, suddenly realizing that Sheppard was not going to let the issue pass. At this moment, he was not John Sheppard, one of her friends and colleagues, but Colonel John Sheppard, Chief Military Officer of Atlantis, and she rightly or wrongly had, in Sheppard's mind, endangered Atlantis, and the knowledge stung. Logically she knew that it shouldn't, because Sheppard was right, but it did. Her vision blackened at the edges, and she felt herself falling forward. Her legs and arms wouldn't respond to her panicked commands to stop her descent. She felt Sheppard's arms catch her, and then knew nothing more.

From Sheppard's perspective, it was like Hannah folded in on herself at his words, all strength leaving her body. He caught her just before she face-planted in the rocks and dirt along the trail. He released the straps of her medical pack, and removed it from her back as carefully as he could. Despite his care, he was glad she was not awake to feel him remove the pack. He pulled an emergency blanket from his tack vest one-handed, struggling to keep Hannah's dead weight upright. Hannah was not small, and certainly not delicate. She was well-built and athletic, and had the muscled body mass to show for it. He quickly spread the blanket on the ground beside the trail, grunting with the effort. Slowly, gently he eased the rest of the way to ground so that she was lying on her back on the emergency blanket.

Field training kicked in, and he checked her airway and her breathing. Satisfied that they were intact for the moment, he checked her pulse. It was strong, but considerably faster than it should be given her level of fitness. He sat back on his heels for a moment, debating on whether a look at her ribs could wait until they returned to Atlantis.

_No._ Not with her passing out from the pain. _She'd just have to kick his ass later_, he thought, knowing that she would be irritated at the invasion of her privacy while she was unaware. Having made his decision, he unhooked her P90, and set it beside her, keeping it in reach in case of an unexpected threat. He unzipped her tack vest and then unbuttoned her shirt, starting from the bottom, and ending just below her bra. He pushed the heavy fabric of her uniform shirt aside while keeping her breasts draped, and swore loudly and succinctly at what he saw.

"Fuck."

His anger spiked, and he clenched his fists around the edges of her shirt. _Minor injury my ass, _he , despite her willful misrepresentation of her injuries, she had, as promised, taped her ribs. But the crude taping, obviously done without assistance, did nothing to hide the deep bruising that spread out over the top and bottom of the white tape on both sides of her torso. The stark contrast of white tape against a backdrop of mottled black, brown and purple was nauseating. From what he could see, the bruising appeared worse on her right side, and there was a distinctly boot shaped bruise that spread out over her abdomen on the right. Sheppard swore again, as he realized that the geometrically arranged squares and lines were _treadmarks _from one of her assailant's boots. Obviously, she had been beaten.

Severely.

The fact that she was still walking in her condition was a testament to her determination.

_And her stupidity_, he thought savagely. What the hell happened? _When_ had it happened? What other injuries were there? She had admitted, albeit reluctantly to having more injuries than just the ribs. _Who_ was responsible?If the attack had been reported, why hadn't he been informed? As far as he knew, Hannah hadn't been off-world for weeks. In fact, she had been complaining about that fact not one week earlier. Given the timing, it must have happened on Atlantis. Well, whoever was responsible was going to feel the wrath of Colonel John Sheppard, Chief Military Officer of Atlantis, but after John Sheppard, the friend, had expended his own wrath on the asshole responsible. He rebuttoned her shirt and rezipped her tack vest. He needed to get her back to Atlantis, but she was out cold. He grabbed her medical pack, remembering that it consisted of an expandable frame that could be used to cart a wounded person back to base. He quickly pulled out the frame, and adjusted the excess fabric on the pack to create the platform for the wounded person to recline on. Once he had it assembled, he gently pulled Hannah on, strapped her to the frame and headed back to the gate with his cargo in tow.


End file.
